Page 10 of My Grumpy Valentine

I can think about how his arm brushes mine with every shift, but that’ll invite my brain to think deeper about Asher.

Or, the way he rumbles with chuckles every time something utterly ridiculous plays out on the screen. If I do, the same thing will happen.

Even now, I’m losing myself to him. He doesn’t even have to speak, and he’s pulling me away from this movie. I’m not even sure what the killer’s motive is at this point. I might as well say he enjoys killing people just to pass the time because there’s nothing else to occupy him.

That’s how Asher is to me. All I’ve had to do is work hard, pick up shifts whenever I could, and focus on making enough money to pay my bills. Now, he’s squeezing himself into my life, making me realize there’s more to life than revolving everything around my job.

Like love. He’s making me think about love too much.

I don’t really see Asher as a friend at all, do I?

This situationischillingly disturbing. It stirs a fear deeper than any movie can depict. My feelings for him raise my heart rate and create tension in my body so tight that one wrong move will leave me in crumbles.

His leather seat creaks as he leans my way. Instead of mentioning how another female lead has tripped and fallen tothe slasher killer now filling the screen, his fingers brush my knuckles. His breath tickles my ear as he leans in to whisper to avoid getting shushed. “Are you alright? If you’re not enjoying the movie, we don’t have to watch it.”

Asher is too nice.

Shaking my head, I give him a smile in hopes of reassuring him. “I’m fine. No, this is great. The best.”

Today, my heart bothers me more than usual. I blame Angela. Her earlier looks left me thinking too deeply about this. I’m painting an impossible picture.

I’ll get through this movie and then move on. Before I get home, I’m sure I’ll realize how silly these thoughts are.

I’m not in love with Asher. I can’t fall in love with a guy who plans on leaving again in the future.

Once the weather clears and he can get that house sold, he won’t have any reason to stick around. Maybe he’ll go right back to wherever he’d run off to in the first place.

5

Asher

“Are you hungry?”

By the time we leave the theater, the sun is heading past the horizon. Didn’t realize how long the movie was supposed to be. Honestly, I lost track of the time thanks to this woman preoccupying my thoughts throughout the entirety of it.

While trying to ensure she was having a good time, I lost focus on the entertainment aspect of our outing. The movie was so bad that it was actually good. She enjoyed herself, didn’t she? For half of the film, she looked like something was eating at her.

Penelope gives me this tight smile as she shakes her head, and just like that, I know something is wrong.

Did she not like the movie? Did the popcorn hurt her stomach? Damn, what went wrong?

“We probably shouldn’t stay out much longer. It’s getting late.” She’s hesitant about it, but soon she slides her arm throughmine. This is nothing odd with how she normally clings to me, but something feels different.

I hate not understanding something. Why does this feel different?

Not wanting to linger on what’s wrong, I nod my head and give her what she wants. She’s not hungry, so she gives me directions on where to drive, insisting that she can get her car later.

Telling myself that she wants to extend our time together, I’m all for it and don’t think to question her intentions. Hell, I assume it’s because she doesn’t want to drive because of the gentle layer of snow cascading from above. I’m tempted to tease her for it, but the words stay on my tongue when I catch her squirming against her seat.

Taking her home, I get a good look at the complex she’s staying in. The darkness helps hide most of it away, but it’s not a terrible joint. While it might not look too bad on the outside, Penelope has had no issue complaining about how much she dislikes living here.

I think her hatred comes more from her neighbors than from the building itself. I don’t think I know a single person who enjoys living in a complex. Hell, my neighbors are so quiet that sometimes I forget there’s life in the houses surrounding mine.

If she’d let me, I wouldn’t think twice about whisking this woman away and letting her stay at my side. I think she’d like it. Even more, I’m willing to bet she wouldn’t be able to think of a single complaint.

Once we’re parked, she fumbles with her seat belt. Her fingers have a little tremble to them. Is it eagerness, or are her nerves getting the best of her? This is the first time she’s brought me here. Hell, I’m feeling a little nervous, too.

Getting out of the truck, I hear her asking why before I shut the door behind me.

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